Chapter 1

Gale is 14

My hands shake by my sides, an uncontrollable feeling of weakness consuming me. My father. Dead. From a mine explosion that killed many others, broke other families apart. But I'm not worrying about them. I'm looking towards my mother, who's wearing some of my fathers more baggier clothes to cover the noticable baby bump. My little brother or sister won't even be able to see my father. And the rest of my sibligs – they won't even be able to remember him.

The note in my hand crumples in my fist. Tears start to slide down my face. I should have stayed there. At the entrance of the mines. But, no, stupidly, I had had such a blind faith in my father, and belived that nothing could happen to him.

He was a survivoir.

He was brave.

He was giving.

He is dead.

I had thought to bring my pregnant mother home. Spare her from waiting in the bitter cold. She was due in 2 months. I couldn't leave her there. And she wouldn't let me wait for the news at the scene; she wanted me to come home. And no way would I let her stay in the house on her own after all that had happened that day. She needed all the love and comfort possible. She needed to be reassured that Father would be safe, that he would come home soon. I had faith in him, and he failed me. Didn't he know that we needed him? Didn't he care enough? Or did he die underground, drowning in the mud and coal until he was suffocated? What were his last thoughts? Were they to dig himself out, or about his family, his pregnant wife and three sons?

The Peacekeeper at the door clears his throat, bringing me back to the present. His voice has a layer of sincerity, and he can't hold my eyes for long. Guilty.

"Tommorow, as the oldest child of Mr John Hawthorne, you will go to the Justice Building, where you will be awarded a medal of honor towards your father, who died a noble death. You will also recieve money to live until his wife gets a job, which should be within a month. Be there at noon."

The male Peacekeepers turn to depart until I tapped one on the shoulder.

"My Mother, she's due in two months, she can't have a job, couldn't-"

He cuts me off. "I don't know, son." His voice was gentle but it meant nothing.

Then he turns away and the Peacekeepers stride off without looking back. They don't feel the pain which we're going through. My mother, she can't stop crying. Rory curls himself in her lap, trying to comfort her, but I pull him off, kneeling down so I can look him straight in the eye.

"See that?" I whisper, pointing to Ma's stomach. "It's a baby, Ror, and we need to look after Ma so it's healthy, yeah? And that's your job. I want you to look after her. Think you can do that?"

He nods, glad to have some responsibility, and stands beside her, stroking her hair. I don't think he understands what's going on. I don't want to be the one to tell him. He's only eight. Vick, my little brother, is four. He hardly reaches my knees, and is still hiding behind the table, scared of what's happened, because he's confused - because his strong, relentless mother is crying and his playful brother can't hold a smile.

I scoop him up from under the table and hold him close. I try to keep some regularity, so I can't cry. Maybe the boys'll think it's nothing if I don't cry.

So I ignore my pounding heart and hold Vick close, breathing in his childish scent and wonder who'll be next to go, while I comprehend the fact that my father is never coming back.

Soundlessly, the Hawthornes depart their threshold and walk in the direction of the Justice Hall. Gale holds each of his brother's hands as they stumble and holds a remorseful expression. Hazelle looks grim, damp hair tied in a loose braid, eyes conflicted. As they parade through the District, the residents of the Seam part.

"Do you know why your half of the village is called the Seam, son?" Mayor Undersee asks. His attention is on me, eyes scanning every emotion that passes through my body.

Your half of the village. So is the village split, into merchants and seam folk? Surely the Mayor would try to contradict the parting of the district?

"No, sir."

He raises an eyebrow. "You must have thought up an idea. After all, you do live there."

What is he trying to say? Why is he telling me this? I couldn't care less. My family needs me. Why the hell is he keeping me in this stuffy room?

"I know where I live, sir," I say, through gritted teeth. Why did he ask me to come to his office? All of his personal items glare at me, their glint showing me that they were worth a pretty penny. For example, the pen on his breast pocket is probably what my house is worth, times ten.

The Mayor laughs, uneasy.

"Tell me your thoughts," he continues. "Why is it called the Seam?"

I remained silent.

The Mayor sighed. "The Seam is what holds Twelve together. The Town relys on the things only the Seam can supply – those miners in the Seam, like your father, took care of the function of our District. The Seam of the District, Gale – it's ripping. Soon, no one will be able to stop it."

I nod.

"As the Mayor," he continued, "I have to stop this. Do you understand?"

Another nod.

"The only way I can-" he stops, standing up to look out of the window. "-the only way that I can prove that I want to… is to give up something dear to me. Gale, what is most dear to you?"

"My family," I replied instantly.

The Mayor nodded, understanding. "For me, it is my wife and my daughter. My wife has already been taken."

Mayor Undersee keeps his back to me, meaning that I am unable to read his expression. His omnious words made me curious, but I didn't have the time to care for them.

"But my daughter Madge," his voice is now a low whisper of air. "My daughter Madge is…" He rolls his shoulders before turning to look at me, his blue eyes clear, stunning, intimidating.

"Gale, I want you to marry Madge."

Mayor Undersee explained everything to me. The contract – kept in his top drawer – was layed out on the table in front of me. If I signed it, I would get enough to feed my family for six months. If I didn't, there were no repercussions, but my mother was far too pregnant to be working. I was too young to get a job in the mines, and even if I hunted like my father I wouldn't be good enough to sustain my family on that alone for a long time.

He had gotten the pen out of his breast pocket and handed it to me, motioning towards the dotted line at the end of the page.

"Sign it, Gale, and you can do your duty to the District and to your family."

My hand hestitated for a moment. But without this money, I knew that my family would all be dead. I didn't give a damn about my District.

A/N: thoughts?